I used to writhe with jealousy
always needing to be the lead, the principal, the soloist—just me.
I used to watch her, her, and her
pulsating with envy.
Needing to be taller, prettier, skinnier
with a tiny nose, and flawless skin that glowed
I used to cry out in the middle of the night
for more, more, more
Never seeing, really seeing me.
Never did I understand why she had it—
and I didn’t
I used to want to be a star
like her, her, and her.
Until last night, when I watched one of the hers
on my television screen.
It occurred to me that I am another her
That her and I were connected
and we didn’t have to compete.
She gave me inspiration and dreams and comfort.
I gave her light and love and support.
It occurred to me that I am all those things with her, her, and her.